Right before my birthday party started, Julian cast his phone screen onto the massive TV in the private room. He started an anonymous poll in our mutual friend group chat. The prompt read: Tonight, should I stay and cut the cake with my girlfriend, or go see a movie premiere with my childhood best friend? Thirty seconds on the clock. The numbers jumped rapidly. Childhood best friend: 17 votes. Girlfriend: 1 vote. Everyone in the room assumed I cast that single vote for myself. Julian leaned back against the leather sofa, smirking as he looked at the final tally. "Majority rules." Chloe instantly shoved the movie tickets into his palm. "See? Everyone agrees I need you more tonight." I was wearing my absolute favorite dress, standing in front of a cake with unlit candles. Someone in the room let out a low whistle. "Don't be a sore loser, Harper." Of course. This kind of polling had been going on for three years. After an argument, a poll decided who had to apologize first. On a date, a poll decided whose hand he held. Even when I asked him if he loved me, he threw the question into the group chat. "Let's see what the jury says," he’d joke. I used to think that if I just won once, he would finally stand firmly by my side. But I never won. Not even tonight. Julian stood up and grabbed his jacket. As he walked past me, he casually ruffled my hair. "Be good. I'll make it up to you later." I stared at the poll results glowing on the big screen, then locked my phone. I pushed the cake knife across the table toward him. "Don't bother." "Julian, I'm withdrawing my vote." ... The room went dead silent for a few excruciating seconds. Julian's hand froze on my head. Chloe was the first to break the tension with a light laugh, acting as if I had just made a harmless joke. "Harper, come on, don't be like that. It's your birthday!" Julian pulled his hand back, his brow furrowing deeply. "Harper, everyone is here. Don't throw a tantrum just because you lost." In the past, whenever he used that tone, I would instantly back down. I was terrified of making him mad, terrified of our friends mocking me, terrified that in the end, everyone would just say I was overreacting. But this time, I just slowly pulled the unlit candles out of the cake, one by one. "I'm not the one making this ugly." Chloe immediately grabbed the sleeve of Julian's jacket. "Julian, maybe we should just skip it. I don't need to see the movie tonight." Her words said one thing, but her grip on the tickets was white-knuckled tight. Our mutual friends instantly started chiming in. "The poll is closed, man. You can't break the rules now." "Come on, Harper, be the bigger person. He can celebrate with you tomorrow." Julian glanced at his watch. Only twenty minutes until the movie started. He hesitated for a fraction of a second, then slung his jacket over his shoulder. "I'm going to drop her off." "If you still want to celebrate your birthday, wait for me here." "Don't make me have to pacify both of you every single time." I looked up and met his eyes. "I already said, don't bother." He acted like he didn't hear me, walking straight past me. Chloe followed closely behind him. As she passed me, she let out a soft, pitying sigh. "Harper, you know how much he hates being forced to choose." The moment the heavy door clicked shut, the music in the room was cranked back up. The poll was still displayed brightly on the TV screen. Childhood best friend: 17 votes. Girlfriend: 1 vote. That single, lonely vote hung at the bottom of the screen, like the last pathetic shred of my dignity. My phone buzzed. A new poll popped up in the group chat. This time, it wasn't anonymous. How many minutes until Harper chases after him crying? Ten minutes. Half an hour. Tomorrow morning. Chloe voted for ten minutes. People started piling on, laughing in the chat. "Don't overestimate her. Five minutes tops." "She can't live without him." Julian didn't vote. But he didn't stop them, either. Suddenly, someone in the chat asked: "By the way, that one vote for 'Girlfriend' earlier—Harper definitely voted for herself, right?" Chloe replied with a giggling emoji. "Who else would vote for her besides herself?" I stared at that message, my fingertips turning to ice. So, they didn't even believe anyone else in this world would ever choose me. Not even for one single vote. I exited the group chat. The cheap birthday crown was still sitting on the table. The shiny gold cardboard was soaked in spilled alcohol, lying there limp and pathetic. I grabbed my purse, turned around, and walked out. Someone yelled from behind me: "Harper, are you seriously leaving?!" I didn't look back. The hallway was long. The glass walls reflected my silhouette. A white dress, red eyes, and empty hands. I looked like a clown who simply couldn't keep the act up anymore. Julian got back to my apartment at 1:00 AM. I was busy packing up all the things he had left at my place. We had been dating for three years. Traces of him had practically infested every corner of my home. His sneakers by the door, his razor in the bathroom, his lighter wedged in the sofa cushions. Even the throw pillows I originally bought had been replaced with the dull gray ones he preferred. When the front door unlocked, I was just dropping the last book into a cardboard box. Julian stood in the entryway. He smelled like the cool night air and a faint trace of perfume. Chloe's signature scent. When he saw the cardboard boxes, his face instantly darkened. "Are we really doing this again?" I ripped a piece of packing tape. "I'll have someone come pick these up tomorrow." He walked over and slammed his hand down on the lid of the box. "Harper, I already gave you an out about the birthday thing." "How long are you going to keep throwing this tantrum?" I looked up at him. "I'm not throwing a tantrum." "I'm cleaning house." Julian let out a harsh, incredulous laugh. "I take Chloe to a movie, and you want to break up over it?" "You saw it yourself. The group voted. I just followed the rules." My fingers froze on the tape dispenser. "So you really think you did absolutely nothing wrong?" He frowned. "I just followed the rules." The rules. Again. Three years ago, during the very first poll, he used those exact same words. That day, he had promised to finally make our relationship public. But Chloe threw a poll into the group chat. If Julian announces his relationship now, will it ruin the vibe in the friend group? Yes: 15 votes. No: 2 votes. After seeing the results, Julian just ruffled my hair. "We can announce it later. It's not a big deal. Everyone just thinks the timing is off right now." I waited for three agonizing months. And then, on Chloe's birthday, he posted a photo dump on Instagram. The very first picture was a selfie of him and Chloe. Over the years... New Year's Eve, the passenger seat of his car, our anniversary, the first slice of cake. Time and time again, I was placed into a multiple-choice question. And time and time again, I was crossed out. I pulled out my old phone, the one I kept in a drawer as a backup, and opened a specific folder. Inside were screenshots from the last three years. Two hundred and seventy-six screenshots. Julian looked confused. "Why the hell do you have all these?" I turned the screen toward him. "Because I was terrified that one day, I might actually forgive you." "And I was terrified I'd forget exactly why I needed to leave." His face stiffened. "Harper, the way you talk lately is getting incredibly ugly." "Ugly?" I let out a soft, broken laugh. "Compared to you making me watch myself lose a popularity contest over my own relationship every single day... this is extremely classy." Julian averted his eyes. After a long moment, he said quietly: "You never used to be this petty." "Because I used to be stupid enough to think that one day, just once, you would choose me." He fell silent. I nudged the cardboard box toward his feet. "That one vote tonight. I didn't cast it." Julian looked up sharply, as if I had just said the most absurd thing in the world. "If it wasn't you, who else could it possibly be?" I didn't answer. Because I genuinely had no idea. All I knew was that when the thirty-second countdown started, my hands remained strictly at my sides. I didn't even touch my screen. I suppose the last shred of my self-respect wouldn't allow me to publicly beg for a single vote of pity in a room full of people. Julian stared at me for a very long time, then suddenly kicked the cardboard box aside. "Fine." "If you want to clean house, then clean it out completely." His phone lit up right at that moment. A message from Chloe. "Julian, is Harper still mad?" "Do you want me to take her out to lunch tomorrow and apologize in person?" Julian didn't even try to hide his screen from me. He typed his reply rapidly. "She's still throwing a tantrum." "We'll see tomorrow." I stared at those words, suddenly finding the whole situation incredibly hilarious. So to him, I wasn't heartbroken. I wasn't devastated. I was just "throwing a tantrum." I bent down, righted the cardboard box, and pressed the tape down firmly. "Julian. We are breaking up." He stood with his back to me, and after a long silence, he sneered. "You've said that a million times." "When have you ever actually left?" The next day around noon, my friend Maya called me. Her voice sounded hesitant. "Harper... Julian just reached out to me. He said you left some things at the club last night." "He said you aren't answering his calls, so he asked me to pass the message along." I stayed silent for a few seconds. Maya quickly added: "I'll go with you. We'll grab the stuff and leave immediately." But when we arrived at the private room, it was packed with people. Maya's face instantly dropped. She cursed under her breath. "He told me it was just your gifts. He didn't mention there was an entire audience." Julian sat at the center table. Chloe sat right next to him. Her eyes were red and puffy, like she had been crying all night. A small cake sat on the table. The candles were already lit. The second she saw me, Chloe stood up. "Harper, I am so sorry." She grabbed a glass of wine and walked over to me, her voice trembling dramatically. "Last night was entirely my fault. I shouldn't have joked around with the movie tickets." "Please don't break up with Julian because of me. Please?" Julian looked up at me. "Chloe has already apologized. Stop being so stubborn." "Everyone just wants to clear the air." Just as he finished speaking, the massive TV screen lit up. Someone laughed and held up their phone. "Why don't we settle this the old-fashioned way?" The new poll prompt flashed across the screen. Should Harper accept Chloe's toast and officially make peace? Before the countdown even finished, the votes were heavily skewed. Yes: 18 votes. No: 0 votes. It was as if the results had been pre-determined from the very start. Chloe bit her lip, looking conflicted. "Guys, don't do this. You're going to make Harper uncomfortable." Julian pushed a glass of wine toward me. "Drink it. Let's move on." I looked down at the glass. The amber liquid rippled, reflecting my tired face. Over the last three years, I had swallowed countless glasses of wine exactly like this one. Just to avoid ruining the mood. Just to give him an out. Just to prove I wasn't petty. Just to make sure Julian didn't frown at me. I picked up the glass. Julian's expression visibly softened. Chloe let out a tiny, quiet sigh of relief. The next second, I dumped the entire glass of wine directly into the ice bucket on the table. The sharp clatter of ice cubes echoed loudly through the room. Every single person froze. I placed the empty glass back on the table. "I am not drinking this." "And I am not 'moving on' just because you voted for it." Julian's face instantly went black. "Harper, do you really have to do this?" "Do what?" I stared him dead in the eyes. "You guys start a poll, force me to accept a toast, force me to play the 'bigger person,' and force me to pretend I'm not hurt." "And then you have the nerve to ask me why I'm making this ugly?" Tears spilled down Chloe's cheeks. "I really just wanted us to get along." She turned, acting as if she were about to run out the door. "Julian, I should go. I don't want Harper to hate me even more." Julian instinctively stood up and grabbed her arm to stop her. His reaction was entirely automatic. So fast he didn't even realize he did it. But I saw it. Clearly. He didn't need a poll for that. His body had made that choice for him countless times. Maya grabbed my hand, whispering: "Let's get out of here." I nodded. Just as we reached the door, Julian chased after us, grabbing my wrist in a vice grip. "You are not leaving until we clear this up." I ripped my arm out of his grasp. "It is perfectly clear." "I'm breaking up with you. She apologized. Now you guys can go back to whatever it is you do." His eyes were burning with barely suppressed rage. "I didn't agree to a breakup." I laughed out loud. "Oh, I'm sorry. Do we need to take a vote on the breakup, too?" My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a new notification from the group chat. Will Harper come crawling back tonight? Yes. Definitely Yes. Two options. No third choice. I held my phone screen up to Julian's face. "Look." "They even scheduled my surrender for me." Julian's face drained of color. Chloe stood behind him, calling his name softly. "Julian, please don't fight with Harper over me." He didn't try to stop me again. At least, not in that moment. I walked out of the club. The sky outside was a heavy, suffocating gray. My phone vibrated with a confirmation text from the moving company. "Ms. Harper, we will be at your apartment tomorrow at 3:00 PM sharp." I replied with a single word. "Okay." The sky remained overcast the entire day I moved. I stood in the empty living room, staring at the neatly stacked cardboard boxes lining the walls. Faint, pale outlines lingered on the walls where the picture frames used to hang. They looked like scars left behind after a toxic relationship is finally ripped away. When my landlord called me, he sounded incredibly awkward. "Ms. Harper... Mr. Julian just contacted me. He said you're just having a spat, and he asked me to put a hold on your lease termination." I dropped my spare key into a manila envelope. "Please proceed according to the contract." The landlord hesitated. "He said you'd regret it." I smiled faintly. "That's what he thinks." Just as I hung up, the doorbell rang. On the intercom screen, Julian was standing in the hallway. He was wearing the exact same black jacket from last night, his brow furrowed deeply. He didn't ring the bell a second time. Instead, he just looked down at his phone and started texting me. "Open the door." "Don't try to scare me with this moving out stunt." "Harper, my patience is running out." I didn't reply. Ten minutes later, he sent another message. "What exactly do you want from me?" Staring at that sentence, I suddenly remembered the very first time I backed down, three years ago. I had asked him the exact same question. "Julian, what exactly do you want from me?" He had told me: "Just stop being so sensitive all the time." It turns out that some words will always boomerang right back to where they started. Only this time, the person feeling the pain was different. When the movers arrived, Julian was still standing in the hallway. When the door opened, he didn't look at me first. He looked past me, into the empty apartment. The shoe rack was empty. The coffee table was empty. Even the tacky potted pothos plant he always complained about was currently wrapped securely in my arms. His expression finally shattered. "Are you actually serious?" I nodded. "Yeah." He reached out to grab the handle of my suitcase. "Where are you going?" I took a half-step back. "None of your business." Julian clenched his jaw violently. "Harper, don't push me." "I sent Chloe home last night." "And I didn't participate in their stupid polls." "What more do you want from me?!" I just stared at him. So in his mind, simply not inflicting more pain was considered a grand gesture of compensation. I pulled my old backup phone out of my purse. There was only one page open on the screen. It was a poll I had just created. Does Julian deserve Harper's forgiveness? Option 1: No, he doesn't. Option 2: Never going back. Total votes: 1. I selected Option 2. Julian read the screen, his face turning an ugly shade of gray. "Are you a child?" "I learned from the best." I shoved the phone toward him. "For the last three years, you let them choose for you one thousand, two hundred and seventy-six times." "Julian, today, it's my turn to choose." His voice dropped to a terrifying chill. "Don't you dare." I shoved the manila envelope into the pocket of his jacket. Inside were the keys. The silver bracelet he gave me. And the movie ticket from last night, ripped neatly in half. "I choose you to be out of my life." Julian violently grabbed my wrist. "Harper!" The moving guys had stopped by the elevator, watching the scene unfold awkwardly. I looked down at his fingers clamped around my wrist. In the past, whenever he grabbed me like this, I would instantly cave. Even when the grievance was choking me, even when the tears were still wet on my face. My first thought would always be, Is he finally asking me to stay? But this time, I only felt pain. I pried his fingers off my wrist, one by one. "Don't touch me." Julian froze. His fingers hung stiffly in the air, as if it was the very first time he realized I was actually capable of rejecting him. Right at that moment, his phone screen lit up. A notification from Chloe. She had sent a screenshot. A new poll. How many days until Harper comes crawling back this time? Three days. One week. Two weeks tops. Chloe's profile picture was proudly displayed under "Three days." Julian's fingers jerked slightly. He frantically slammed his thumb down to lock the screen, but it was too late. In that single, fleeting moment, the last lingering ache in my chest completely vanished. I placed my old backup phone firmly into his open palm. "This time, you guys can bet on it for as long as you want." "I'm not sticking around for the results."
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